I went on a bike ride with Olga to visit our friend Tonya in Korychevka, the little village about a 45-minutes bike ride from Starobilsk. I must admit I wondered if I could make a long bike ride, but decided, in best PC mode, to ‘just do it,’ and worry about that later, if I had to.
It turned out I didn't have to. It was a great bike ride on a beautiful day. I had no problems with endurance or energy. Getting old with strength, grace and dignity, Loren would say! We biked out of town over the Aydar river on a very rickety bridge (worse than the ones Loren and I went over in Costa Rica, holding our breaths), over an old cobblestone road, one of the earliest roads in Starobilsk, and past the ancient part of town. We biked through meadows of wild flowers and corn fields surrounded by gentle mountains, more like golden hills; past small villages and large farms; past little stores and houses with large barns; past cows and goats munching on wild grass. They were scenes right out of Currier and Ives, or Norman Rockwell. Sunny and pastel, serene and pristine, warmly glowing and wholesome.
I peddled along behind Olga without a care in the world, absorbing the beauty of rural Ukraine. A rare feeling for a city girl. And so much better than driving through the country in a bus or car,or on a train. The 23rd Psalm started running through my head: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul..." It was as if biking through the countryside accessed a part of my mind I rarely use, and dug up thoughts and memories I rarely remember.
Tonya, who teaches English at the village school, where I had a lovely visit last winter(2 March 2010 blog) greeted us warmly. She lives in a big house, built by her husband and his father, and they have a huge garden, really a small farm I guess you could say. It’s a working farm, and it’s a lot of work. They have 4 big pigs and 8 little pigs, many chickens, an old dog, and a cat who just had kittens, and huge fields of berries, melons, herbs, and vegetables, now mostly past harvest, except for some heads of cabbage, squash and pumpkins in the pumpkin patch. They have huge mounds of grasses ready to feed their pigs in winter. Tonya and her family live off the land and their animals, in survival mode. They have many cares, two grown sons with trouble finding work, and always work to do around the house and gardens. It's not an easy life.
Tonya is an inspiration to me. She works hard and is generous. She loves to sing. It frees her soul, she says. I can imagine her singing at her farm tasks. She teaches because she has to work. Anything to help the household economy. She was born in Kiev but has come to love country life. I love watching her and Olga working on language together, helping each other out in French or Russian or English. They are always careful to involve me in the conversation. It's reassuring, I can tell you.
Tonya prepared a great meal, fit for queens, with an apple pie and delicious 8-egg layered cake with a nut filling for dessert, and home-made wine and tea. Well, everything is home-made, direct from the garden to the table. Then we walked around the farm, admired the animals, watched the cute little pigs running around in circles, admired an ancient tree and the pumpkin patch, and flopped against the huge mounds of of wheat and grass.
What a wonder filled day. Olga and I biked back to town happy as larks, breathing in the fresh air of the countryside, and picking apples and plums along the way.
We are looking forward to our big trip to Lviv and the Carpathian mountains at the end of the month. Someday both Olga and Tonya want to visit America. I dearly hope their dream comes true. For now, we are happy to explore Ukraine together, friends sharing life, love and laughter.
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